


Five Minutes

by mischief5



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Humor, M/M, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief5/pseuds/mischief5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge is sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Minutes

  
Methos was late. Duncan could feel the ancient Presence somewhere nearby and scanned the busy street corner, hoping to see the tall, lanky man appear in the late morning crowd.

Nope, no Methos. But across the street and two doors down hung a sign: "Richardson's Books: Antique, Used, and Rare." Duncan grinned and crossed with the light. He'd been wrong. Apparently, Methos had been early and, knowing the old man, if there was a book anywhere in a fifty foot radius and time to spare, he hadn't been able to resist.

Duncan found him on the second floor, glowing in the light from the sole window amongst the stacks. The heavy book Methos was reading looked a bit worn with age and those long fingered hands caressed it like a lover. Duncan settled a shoulder against a nearby shelf and enjoyed the view.

Without looking up, Methos asked, "What kept you?"

"I was on time," Duncan answered mildly.

"No, you were late." Methos said. "I, on the other hand, was early and was therefore forced to find something with which to occupy my time until you deigned to haul your Scottish, sheep-fucking arse down here to meet me for lunch." Green-gold eyes pinned him with a hard stare. "You were late."

Duncan scrubbed away a grin. "We agreed to meet at 11:30."

"Yes, we did. And it now exactly-" Methos shifted the book to check the time. "Oh."

"11:35 by my watch." Duncan supplied cheerfully. "My Scottish, sheep-fucking watch."

"Five minutes is still five minutes. I will have my revenge. And we are not amused," the old man drawled and returned to his reading.

"'We'? Is that a frog in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" The Highlander choked with laughter as he was royally ignored, wondering what had put Methos into one of his famously quirky moods. "And just what do you have there that's so interesting?"

"Pornography, MacLeod; delightfully, witty pornography."

"Porn? In a book that old?"

"Philistine." Methos sneered. "Did you think that porn was invented right along side the Internet? Have you forgotten Playboy? Penthouse? Hustler? The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition?"

Duncan doubled over, giggling. "You are such a snot!"

The rant continued, unabated. "Stag films from the '50's. Pin-up girls from the '40's. Marilyn Monroe and, dear God, the legs on Betty Grable! French postcards from the turn of the century. And I know for a fact that the first image Louis Daguerre created was that of a lovely young woman, completely nude. Except for the hat, of course."

"Oh, that's complete bullshit!" Duncan slid into a chair, gasping.

"She was too wearing a hat!" Methos insisted. "With blue feathers."

"You weren't anywhere near Louis Daguerre."

"Fat lot you know, you ill-bred, grass-eating, cow-stealing-"

"-sheep-fucking Scot! Come up with something new, why don't you?" He had to dig his heels in to keep from sliding out of his seat and he was getting a stitch in his side.

Methos set the book down and began to tick off names on his fingers. "Sappho, Catullus, Ovid, Chaucer, Aretino, Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, D. H. Lawrence, Anaïs Nin, James Joyce, Dr. Ruth…"

"Dr. Ruth is a sex therapist!"

"Do you honestly believe that no one listened to her on the radio and wanked off at the same time?"

Duncan rolled out of the chair, curled up laughing. "Good God, you're a sick old bastard!"

Methos kicked him. "And let's not forget the arts! Goya, Titian, Manet, Albrecht Dürer, Rodin, Matisse, Michelangelo. And considering Michelangelo's personal preferences, I will never understand why he shortchanged poor _David!_"

Wiping his eyes, Duncan tried to sit up. "You feel sorry for a _statue_?"

"Well, how would you feel spending five hundred years on public display with a three inch cock?"

"It's not three inches…"

"It is when you're 17 feet tall!"

Too much, too much. Duncan collapsed, crying with laughter. Methos crouched beside him.

"The perversity of mankind is such that when we first began pounding rocks together to make stone tools, we probably started with dildos."

"Stop, oh, stop!" Giggling, he flailed helplessly, trying to push Methos away. "You're a twisted, demented old man and I hate you!"

Wandering away from the sprawled out, breathless Scot, Methos picked up his book and returned to the window. "By the way, you're paying for lunch."

"I am not."

"You were late."

"Five minutes!"

"Is still five minutes." And revenge is sweet. Methos smiled, a satisfied man.


End file.
